8-18-16

"In A Picture Perfect City I Feel Like An Abomination"

Oh Thursday, My favorite day of they week....or not. Because I know what comes at the end of the day. Therapy! Woo! Don't get me wrong, I'm a total advocate for therapy. But sometimes getting TO therapy feels as difficult as the journey to Mount Doom. I know I'll have to take the train. And let me tell you, the worst place you can put someone who suffers from anxiety is a tin can full of people. It's not even that it's crowded so much as what my brain thinks up and gets carried away with. Every girl who's prettier than me makes me reflect on myself and what I lack. Every guy that looks right through me as if I didn't even exist....adds fuel to my self sabotaging fire. In a picture perfect city I feel like an abomination. I feel like something unworthy of a second look. I know this is the reality I've created for myself. I remind myself that this is why I need to keep going to therapy and I get on that train.

"Hello Gorgeous Is Just A Lie I Keep Telling Myself"

I got lucky and scored a seat on the train today. I love it when that happens because then I can space out and just read stories or books on my phone. I can text and keep busy and ensure I won't make eye contact with any other human being on that train. Across from me I spotted the bag up above. "Hello Gorgeous." I have little post its all over my desk at work with greetings along those lines. I have "Hello Beautiful" as a decal on my bathroom door so one of the first thoughts I subconsciously have will be it. My friend got me a pillow that says that on it so perhaps the first thing I gaze at will be that. It's a message I've been inundated with but nothing changes. At least not blatantly. I'm sure little by little it will but for now "hello gorgeous" is just a lie I keep telling myself. It's like freestyling Legos of positivity that I will hopefully someday be made of.

"I Want To Be The Change"

Riding the train can be really mentally draining. Los Angeles is a city that's so wealthy in many ways. There's luxury and money all around and yet so many people live under bridges or on sidewalks. Sometimes a sad looking soul will board the train and try to sell you whatever they might have to offer. I try not to let it get to me, and sometimes I try not to look at all. But I also don't ever want to be the type of person that would turn away from someone's suffering. I want to be the change I want to see in the world. I want to reach down and help other people up. That's yet the billionth reason I have chosen to embark on a journey of self love and self care. If I don't attain a better mental and physical state then I'll never have the means to cause real change or help pull someone up.

"The Energy To Finish My Day"

It's starting to become a "thing" that I come to this place before going to see my therapist.  Sometimes the stuff I talk about is so heavy that I end up just going home and crawling into bed. I get something new this time. I need something stronger to that'll give me the energy to finish my day. I want to finish strong. I want to be productive. The barista smiles at me and asks me what I do here every Thursday. I awkwardly say "I have business here." I don't tell her the truth because in the culture that I come from therapy is only for "crazy people." It's extremely taboo and I have not yet gotten over that. Anyway I realize to the barista  I probably sound like I'm dealing drugs and so instead of sipping my coffee patiently like I planned to, I leave and sip my coffee in my therapist's waiting room. I am embarrassed. I decide I embarrass too easily.

"Los Angeles Is My Home"

As strenuous and mentally taxing as going to my therapist is....I feel glad every single time I go. I thank myself for having the courage. I thank myself for being able to tolerate it. Most importantly I thank myself for being honest with her because it isn't always easy. I talked to her about how I feel a total stranger to this city. I tell her about my homesickness for the politeness and community I grew up in. I tell her that because my ex was born and raised here I feel like an invader in his city. Every objection to the fact Los Angeles is my home I can  bring up...she finds a way to dismiss entirely. Her logic is sound. Los Angeles is my home. I shouldn't be afraid to walk it's streets. I shouldn't be afraid to discover it's secrets. I shouldn't be afraid to get to know it's people. Nearly 4 years here now...I should be able to lay claim to it.